


I Hung My Head

by Varmint



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Accents, Character Death, Crime Fighting, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Lies, Minor Original Character(s), Organized Crime, POV Third Person, Secret Identity, Secrets, Skeletons In The Closet, Time Skips, odd narration style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-01-31 09:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12679074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varmint/pseuds/Varmint
Summary: When one thought about a mysterious hero, Vigilante would not be the first on anybody's mind to be thought of. But Greg Saunders has skeletons in his closet he wishes to remain hidden. He is not who he seems to be. Inspired by Johnny Cash's 'I Hung My Head'.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still alive! And I will be posting every week, but they'll be limited posts.
> 
> For those of you who don't know, I was hit by María and have yet to have any electricity. But I have functioning internet so I'm gonna get back into the swing of posting things.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this new story!

_I_

The problem with living in a small town was that everyone always knew what was happening.

"Ah heard was one of them Savage boys."

"Come on now! Just 'cause he comes from a rough family-"

"His whole family's wild! Even their name's a bad sign. Just what kinda name is Savage, anyway? The kind that belongs to a bunch a savages, that's the kind!"

Raleigh had grown up listening to people talking shit about his family. Hearing things like these were normal occurrences for him. In a small town where poverty reigned supreme and only a lucky few kept their heads above water, the Savage family was despised.

Years of smart investing and strict book keeping had ensured the family's financial stability. They weren't the rogues that the town wished them to be. If anything, they were an honest bunch that always worked hard to keep themselves in their current economic position. They'd never done anything illegal to acquire their riches.

But everyone always needed someone to blame- a reason to hate. And the Savage Family had been dealt that card early on, before any of the currently living members had even been born.

"Listen, I know you're angry. Carson's death was a tragedy. But you know that there was a group of roughbacks traveling across the county on the same day he died. It coulda been any of those folks."

Morrigan was a small town on the eastern outskirts of Wyoming. At one point, there'd been a land dispute between the state and Nebraska, seeing how Morrigan had found itself on the very center of the boundary lines of both states a good hundred years ago. In its hay day, the little town happened to be one of the biggest and most important towns in the West, all because of the savvy business men that had exploited all of its natural resources in the smartest ways possible.

Like most other Western towns born from gold mining, Morrigan had fallen into decay in the last century. From thousands in the census passed during its peak, the little town now had a few hundred people living within.

Unfortunately, the smaller a town was, the more the inhabitants knew one another.

"Yuh say what you want to say. But there ain't no doubt in my mind that the Savage family is full o' nothing but rattlers, varmints, and yella bellied cowards. Their daddy's bad blood, their momma's bad blood, and even their grandpappies were twisted. Them kids got that bad blood runnin' through they veins!"

The Saloon was a favorite meeting spot for the older males of the town. It had been open from before even their grandparents had been born, one of the few buildings from the town's founding that still stood.

There wasn't anything marvelous about the establishment. It was wooden, just like every other building in the town. It was two stories, which had been the norm in the past for this kind of establishment. Before, the rooms on the second floor had been used for unsavory business deals. Now they were used to throw drunken and disorderly customers without having to call for the sheriff or his men.

There was an awning above the front door, offering shade and shelter in the scorching mid-noon sun. Above it was a metallic sign, rusted with age, which spelled out the word **SALOON.** And towards its left side there was a garage that had been constructed during the boom of gambling in the earlier decades of the twentieth century, where one could see worn and withered tables of all kinds through the windows.

"It could not have been all of the Savage boys, Earl."

The men that were currently speaking stood beneath the sign, beers in their hands. One wore a suit and had just recently arrived from Cheyenne, where he worked on the weekdays as a lawyer. The other was dressed in dirtied jeans, a soiled shirt that was browner than white, and had decided to head for a drink before he went to work.

Earl, with his beer in hand and a frown on his chapped lips, continued his tirade against the Savage family.

"Then why don't we look at the young'un o' the clan? That Raleigh is more twis-"

Well, he would have _continued_ his tirade if he had been able to. But he was cut off forcefully by a large fist slamming straight into his mouth, busting his lips open.

Raleigh watched with wide eyes as his brother stalked away from the man he had laid out in front of the Saloon, much too surprised by the sudden viciousness he had displayed to properly react. They had been on the other side of the street, leaving the pharmacy where they had been grabbing Sir's medicine, when they'd begun to listen to the conversation.

Raleigh had grown accustomed to hearing whispers about him around the town.

It seemed that Jeb had not.

"Let's go, Rae. Yuh ain't gotta listen ta this."

For a moment, the teen wanted to tell his older brother that he did have to listen to this. He needed to hear himself being prosecuted by his fellow men for the crime he had committed; the crime he had hidden.

But Pa would kill him if he found out what had happened. And Ma would give him a good licking with the whip before he did… He didn't even want to know what Sir might do to him if he found out.

"Raleigh!"

Jeb was a good way's away from him. Hell, he'd somehow managed to stride the good ten feet from the Saloon towards their truck in what had felt like _milliseconds._

How he had moved so fast in so little time was beyond the young teenager. But Raleigh didn't stop to question it. Instead he tried to rush after him, tripping over his much too large shoes in his confusion.

He couldn't tell his family the truth. They would kill him.

* * *

VI

Everyone had secrets they wanted to remain hidden. All superheroes wished for their secret identities to remain unknown. Some, though, had more than a few reasons as to why they wished their true identities to remain hidden. A few, even, had more than one secret identity and were complete mysteries shrouded by enigmas and deceit.

Vigilante was not the first hero one thought of when it dealt with closely guarded secrets. Everyone that knew him believed him to be one of the most straightforward people around. He was a man that enjoyed the simple things in life and could take just about anything in stride. Barely anything truly bothered him. And he loved to love. What more was there to find in a man like that?

Batman would be the kind of person that people would think about when it came to heroes shrouded in mystery. Vigilante was the exact opposite.

They would be wrong to think this. Even though Batman was a mystery, he was much more honest than what Vigilante could ever hope to be. The man that wore the cowboy clothes and spoke with the heavy western accent wasn't truly the person the members of the Justice League thought they knew.

And that was just the way he wanted to keep it. Because he couldn't risk having anyone finding out the truth about whom he was. If they did, he would not be able to live like a normal person ever again. He would lose all of the friends and bonds he had created. And he'd experienced enough loss in his life to be sure that he didn't want to lose anymore.

He was not a man that was proud of his past. There was a reason why he spoke about a made up childhood in which he had lost his little brother to leukemia and his father to bank robbers instead of the true life he had been forced into. And he refused to ever admit to the truth of who he was. He couldn't bring himself to. He had left that life behind and he'd never tell anyone about whom he had once been.

None of his friends knew about his true past. None of his loved ones were even suspicious as to the person he truly was. The only people that really knew who he truly was were the very people that kept him needing to lie.

"Hey, Clint Eastwood, what's up with the Batman mood?"

Vixen... He couldn't truly understand why that woman was so invested in him. Nor why she felt she needed to divide her time between him and that Green Lantern jerk. She loved him like no other and needed to spend time rebuilding the relationship that dumbass had fractured. There was no need for her to try and keep him as a friend.

"Just thinkin' 'bout the newest case Ah'm workin' on back home." He answered with a heavy sigh then shook his head regretfully. "Girls are missin', Mari. No older 'an fifteen."

The woman's dark eyes immediately narrowed upon hearing the grim news and she quickly sat down in front of him.

At these ungodly hours of the morning, barely a soul could be found lurking around unless they were scheduled to work or leave their stations. A few of the less _sunny_ members of the League were known to come out at this time as well for early exercise or breakfast, or, like Crimson Avenger or the Question, to look over all kinds of information in bouts of paranoia against their fellow heroes. But Vigilante and Vixen weren't usually a part of this crowd.

Well, actually, _Vixen_ wasn't a usual part of this crowd, Vigilante barely ever saw her here. He would know this because, unlike her, he _was_ a usual member of the crowd. Only a few were aware of this fact, but didn't really speak to any of his friends, so none of his friends thought him to be the regular he was.

He was thought to be a heavy sleeper that couldn't be woken up by conventional means. And because of this, not many expected him to be awake at this hour. But he was _always_ awake at this hour. One couldn't really get much sleep if the screams of the damned insisted on keeping them awake, now could they?

"What's up? What are you thinking is happening down South?"

No matter how many times he wound up doing this, it never got any easier. The heaviness that suddenly struck his tongue never got any lighter as he told his lies. And the tightening in his throat never loosened up until he was far away from the person he wound up lying to.

This was no real way to live. But this was the only way he knew. And it was the only way he could afford.

Somber green eyes scanned over the mostly barren cafeteria, making sure that there were no prying eyes near them. All they found was the usual deserted, metallic tables and much too pristine chrome floors. There was no one else around at this hour except for the both of them.

There was no reason for him to check his surroundings. At this hour, there was no soul to listen in. And this case, much like every other one he worked on publicly, was no great spectacle. It may sound awfully detached of him to say that this was yet another case that held no true importance, but it was the truth. There were no lurking supervillains trying to take over the world with the disappearance of these girls. There was no evidence that could incriminate someone of high standing in the world. It was yet another case of disappeared girls that would undoubtedly be forgotten in a couple of months once the perpetrators weren't found.

"Pedophile. Have reasons ta think he dresses 'em up as dolls 'fore he rapes and murders 'em." His voice took on a tense, nearing clipped, tone. Vixen would think it was because he wanted to catch the bastard responsible for the disappearances. And, even though it wasn't the truth, it was good to have her believe that. "Although all we've found on the bodies is just signs of sexual trauma an' lacerations from bein' held captive."

The woman's perfectly plucked left eyebrow raised in questioning, then she asked, "Why do you think he dresses them up? And how are you so sure it's one guy? This could be a team of people: a duo, a family, maybe even two drunken guys that overpower little girls."

This woman was always so eager to help him… She always wanted to keep him happy… Keep her little canary crooning.

Greg couldn't blame her for having found something within him that was interesting. And he sure as hell couldn't fault her for having found _something_. Hell, it seemed to be a regular occurrence with just about everyone he met. All people he met eventually found something they liked or found interesting about him. This made them continue coming back to him.

Most of the times it was good people to find something about him they wanted to keep around them. Bad people also found something that intrigued them. But the most abundant people that wanted to keep him near were those he considered to be genuinely nice people.

What it was that these good souls found, Greg would never understand. He was rotten, damaged, and despicable. How anyone could possibly see any good in a person as detestable as him was truly beyond his comprehension. But he allowed it. Even though it hurt to constantly have to lie, it was a constant in his life that brought him a twisted sort of comfort.

Lying had been an integral part of his life for as long as he dared remember. He'd lied for so long that telling the truth was near impossible for him.

Many thought that one would always get caught in their lies. There would always be some kind of inconsistency born from forgetfulness. When something happened, it was hard to forget. When one lied, they were creating something out of literally nothing. There was no substance for the mind to hold onto when it came to lies.

Well… When it came to most minds. Greg's had been forced to adapt in a harsh world rather quickly. He had been caught in his lies dozens of times in his youth. But after one specific beating given to him for his incompetence when it came to keeping track of his forged adventures, Greg had learned his goddamn lesson. And he'd never forgotten a single lie he had ever told.

It was easier for him to forget the true nature of the events occurred than to forget the lies shaped from them. Easier… it didn't happen often. He _didn't forget_. But, on the off chance he _did¸_ it was usually something that had actually happened rather than a lie he had told.

"Ah suppose so, Vixen…" He murmured softly, but shook his head and lifted his gloved hands to rub at his tired eyes.

He wasn't sure how long he had gone without sleep. But he knew it had been more than twenty hours and he was nearing his limit.

"Oh, Slinger…"

The man forced his body to not react when the woman's hand suddenly made contact with his shoulder. He had known her for long enough to know that it would be coming, that she'd touch him to try and comfort him, so he had been prepared to stop himself from flinching away.

Normally, he didn't have to actively stop his body from reacting to unwanted touches. With enough sleep, it could keep a mighty fine control of itself. But with his lack of sleep, coupled with the stress that had been eating at his mind for the past twenty hours and the countless coffees he had already drank, it was a bit more jittery than he would like.

Once he solved the mess created, he'd be able to sleep somewhat comfortably. After he'd dealt with the huge mistake committed, he'd get the rest he needed to keep his body under control without having to strain his mind.

But until then, he'd need to cope.

"You need to get some sleep. And maybe some food in you too. Is that shirt fitting a tiny bit looser today? Cause I swear it is."

A small, sad smile grazed the man's dried lips for a few seconds. But it soon fizzled back into a tight line; all the while the green eyed male shook his head. Luckily for him, the bandanna wrapped around the lower half of his face kept his companion from seeing how quickly his mood changed. Kept her from seeing how badly he could keep up the happy act at the moment.

"Ah'm mighty grateful fer all the worry, ma'am, but Ah have lost no weight." He chanced a small wink at her after this, "But Ah'll take that as a compliment."

The woman pursed her lips in amusement, shook her own head, and placed a hand on Vigilante's shoulder.

"You always were a hoot, Vig."

Always. It was quite the heavy word in his mind. But people used it so loosely. Like Vixen right now. 'Always a hoot'. One would think they'd known each other for years now, had forged an unbelievable friendship through trials and tribulations.

_Always a liar._

They'd only known one another a year now. Ever since the Justice League had opened its doors to the rest of the heroes of the world, actually.

How they had met had been rather interesting. But Greg didn't want to think about that right now.

It wasn't right to think of something so positive when he had to deal with much more pressing and life threatening issues. He was worried he'd soil the memory if he remembered it in this mood. That it would somehow take on the bitterness of his current emotions.

Taking a moment to inhale, Vigilante turned to look at her, eyebrows softened so he looked apologetic, "Listen, Vixen, Ah should mosey on out… This case ain't gonna work itself an' Ah need ta get mah sorry ass in motion 'fore it stays attached to this 'ere chair."

Radiant dark skin pulled apart gently as a bright smile appeared from behind scarlet lips.

Vixen was beautiful.

That Green Lantern bastard didn't deserve her.

But Vigilante kept his mouth shut. Because if there was anyone that deserved such beauty in his life even less than that Lantern prick, it was him.

"Alright then, Rawhide. I'll see you later."

The cowboy pushed his chair away from the table where he sat, tipped his hat in the direction of the woman, and stood up. After he'd given his silent goodbye, the man slid his hands into his pockets and began to whistle a jaunty little tune as he took one step after another, each one taking him farther away from the ebony beauty.

As he walked, the words to the song he whistled sailed across his mind.

_'_ _Cause I ain't no good for you, baby. I'm that snake in your boot, the devil in your ear; hell, I just drive everyone crazy… Darlin' o' mine, I'm just always a liar…'_


	2. Chapter 2

_II_

He'd just wanted to be like his brother. That's all he'd wanted to do. Be as awesome as the big man himself.

It had been a fool's dream.

_"If ever yuh ever wanna use mah gun, kiddo, just tell me. I ain't 'bout to keep yuh from yer birth right."_

Birth right.

He didn't want his birth right. Not anymore.

"So's I knocked 'im out. I don't care what that sheriff has ta say, don't no one go 'round town insultin' mah lil' brother!"

"Yuh did good, son."

Jeb smirked. Pa nodded with a stern frown. And Ma served up supper with Bonnie's help.

"That Earl! Can't keep his sorry mouth shut!" Beulah hissed as she appeared from the kitchen, a tray full of drinks in her hands. "Don't he know that the Savage Family protects its own?"

"Seems like he doesn't, Beu." Bonnie shrugged as she dropped a large helping of mashed potatoes onto Raleigh's plate, causing him to look up with widened eyes. She winked and then moved over to give their youngest sister, Ivy, a helping of her own. "Yuh need yer strength, boy. It seems them rumors are runnin' 'round even speedier 'an before."

Suppertime in the Savage household was always busy. There were so many of them in one building that it took a good three hours to prepare a large enough meal to feed all of the hungry stomachs. And then, to sit them all down and get them to eat properly, took a good half hour.

"Atticus! Where's that Boone boy?" Pa asked the oldest of the boys, effectively changing the topic of the conversation.

Momentarily, Raleigh looked down at his plate of mashed potatoes and felt his stomach lurch. Bonnie didn't really give extra helpings if she could help it. The family was stable economically, but they'd been taught to stretch their pennies out as much as they could. For her to have given him so much food must have meant that she wanted him to feel _some_ kind of comfort.

The extra food only made him feel worse than before.

After a few seconds, he couldn't stand the waves of nausea crashing into him. So he looked up to see the rest of the conversation as it panned out.

The dark haired man seated to his father's right glanced up from the knife he had been sharpening.

"Wasn't he s'possed ta join us?"

Their dining room table was more than just one table. Three large, wooden tables that would normally sit eight people had been pushed together and covered up with three huge covers.

Atticus Lugh, the father of the eight youngest Savages, sat by the upper corner of the table. The chair in front of him was supposed to sit his wife, and the one to his left was supposed to sit his own father.

The rest of the chairs were for the rest of the family to sit in, cousins and siblings fighting to try and get the chairs farthest from the patriarch. Atticus Neit, though, was forced to sit to his father's right most of the time. As the heir to the Atticus name, he had a great deal of pressure on his shoulders.

"Got hisself in trouble with the law, Pa." Ace shrugged, then sighed softly, "Can't keep his curiosity in check. Went ta see the crime scene."

Raleigh stiffened up at the mention of the location of the greatest mistake he had ever committed. But no one seemed to notice, much too busy speaking among each other and dealing with supper to actually look at him.

That had been his life's story. Forgotten and ignored.

"That stupid boy!"

Everyone within the large dining room froze in place when the harsh, disproving shout resounded around them. Then they all turned to look at the doorway that joined the kitchen with the main living area. There stood a large, aged man. His hair was as white as snow, yet thick and well kept. The wrinkles on his face were heavy and mapped out quite the life story, one filled with adventure and experience. And his green eyes, surrounded by those very wrinkles, shined with disappointment.

"That daddy o' his shoulda kept 'im in his house." The man's cane echoed throughout the room every time it slammed onto the wooden planes beneath his hulking mass of a body. Raleigh suppressed a flinch each time it hit. "This town: Always tryin' ta sully the Savage name when e'eryone 'round us is a thousand times worse!"

"Yessir."

Every Savage answered in unison. They always did whenever Dr. Atticus Findlay Savage graced them with his words. However surly and unpleasant they may have been.

All of the members of the family remained as still as mannequins as they waited for the patriarch of the family to take the seat at the head of the table- the only position that could belong to a man as important as him.

Once he had sat himself within the chair, bones creaking so loud that even young Ivy, seated at the other side of the long table, could hear it, he looked Raleigh straight in the eyes.

Clouded green eyes bore into a bright green pair.

Age met youth.

Age _scrutinized_ youth.

"Keep yer chin up, boy. This family has dealt with rumors an' lies since we first arrived in this 'ere country. Even when Findlay Sauvage first arrived, fresh from the fields o' Ireland, he was blamed fer any misfortunes that occurred. He was Irish; an immigrant an' proud. Since them days, this family has received shit everywhere it has lived."

The Savage family tree was rich and full of wonderful men and women that had risen through adversity and had proved their worth- if not to those around them, then at least to themselves. No matter how harshly they were judged, all of Raleigh's ancestors did their family proud by never giving in to any of the hate bestowed upon them.

They had done their fellow Savage's proud by never committing such a huge crime.

Everyone was staring at him. Different hues of green bore into his soul as they waited for him to answer.

The whole of the Savage family could be identified by two simple physical traits. Their hair was as black as onyx and as thick of that on a horse's head. They all wore it differently, never to be seen as a carbon copy of each other, but their mane was easily distinguished in a crowd. And their eyes were always green. No matter what, a Savage always had green eyes and black hair.

Be your daddy a Savage and your momma not, your eyes would be green and your hair black. Be your momma a Savage and your daddy something else, it wouldn't matter. A Savage was a Savage.

With all those variations of green staring at him, watching, waiting, Raleigh felt his throat dry up.

Once again, he felt the impulse to tell the truth.

He looked around all of the members of his family, all the brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles… Looked at them to try and find the strength to admit to what he had done.

But then he looked at his father. At the face that had never looked at him with more than apathetic love and reluctant acceptance.

He'd always wanted to make him smile. The man smiled to all of his children… _Most_ of his children. From the eldest boy down to the youngest girl, Atticus Lugh had given his kids at least one _pure_ smile throughout the course of their lives.

 _Most_ of his children had received that honor. Raleigh had yet to receive it. It seemed that Atticus Lugh had never found a reason to smile at Raleigh before. And he certainly never would if he found out what the boy had done.

The idea of ever finding any strength to confess to his crime vanished.

Slowly he looked down at his plate of food.

"Yessir."

* * *

VII

Returning to the Watchtower was not an easy feat. Not with all of the bruises currently decorating his body. Not with the fresh memory of everything he had _just recently_ done to keep the truth about his life as hidden as it could stay.

… Was this even worth it? Constantly putting his life on the line just to keep himself afloat? … Did he even _want_ to stay afloat?

Sometimes, he wasn't sure what he wanted. Not anymore.

As he walked through the cold, unfeeling halls of the rust bucket that floated in the middle of space, Greg couldn't help but wonder if this really was a life he wanted to continue leading.

Then he remembered his past. Everything he had done. Everyone he had hurt. And this reminded him that, even though this was not the life he wanted to live, it was the only one he could have if he didn't want to answer for past crimes.

He was nothing more than a yellow bellied coward.

Earl had been right.

The people that walked around him were the same as ever. Either worried with the job they were being sent on, extremely tired because of the job they had returned from, or happy that they weren't going to be sent anywhere on this particular night.

Many greeted him. Most with smiles and worried questions about his extremely noticeable limp. Some merely nodded at him and continued on their way, not wasting a single breath in killing time.

He wasn't completely sure which of these two categories he appreciated most.

Dealing with his little complication had not been easy. And it had left him much too wounded for his taste. Especially considering how he was stuck on Monitor Duty tonight, which meant that he wouldn't be able to rest and recover for at least twelve more hours. Which meant that he was pushing his body beyond its limits… _Yet again._

There was only one option for him at the moment. He needed to get some food into him as quickly as possible before he wound up passing out from how badly he was neglecting his body.

Eight hours. Eight fucking hours spent hunting that good for nothing weasel down. And a further two more trying to fix up the damned mess he had created because he'd gotten too damn big for his britches. His whole day had been spent cleaning up the large mess created by a damned coward.

Said coward wouldn't be causing _anybody_ any further trouble now. But Greg didn't really want to think too much on what he had done to ensure this. All he allowed himself to think of was the fact that the weasel was no more and how he sincerely hoped all the injuries he had sustained on his little fishing expedition had been worth it.

He ignored all other thoughts that might have come from the disposal of the rat. He busied himself by walking down the cold halls of the Watchtower, smiling and nodding every time someone greeted him.

He'd always been good at hiding his true ideas, his true thoughts.

One might think that his story was a sad one. He just thought of it as _his_.

When he reached the cafeteria, it was much livelier than it had been during the morning. There were heroes and workers alike filling up most of the tables that had previously been empty. Their chatter filled up the once empty space with a wonderful cacophony that reverberated throughout all of the man's body. It was a rather great feeling. He'd never dealt too well with being completely alone, after all. Hell, just being surrounded by people talking, even if they weren't talking to him, had always helped lift his spirits.

Quietly, the male made his way towards the serving stations to find himself something to eat. He kept his head down, though, to try and keep himself from being noticed by those that were busy with their own lives.

Within his pocket, the weight of his phone made him feel like Atlas as he held the weight of the world. It was a large burden imposed on him, one he couldn't control. Aside from that, his body was bruised and battered... But that was a mere afterthought... His real issue was the knowledge of having to keep within an area of connection at all times for when he received the call.

This was never a matter of _if_ he received the call. It was always a matter of _when he received it._

"Howdy, Cowboy!" The woman behind one of the tables, a dark haired female with bright blue eyes, smiled as soon as he walked up. "You look like you could use a double helping. Am I right?"

She _was_ right. But Greg had gotten into trouble enough times for accepting the workers' kindness that he knew better than to accept.

"Whoa there, missy. Yuh've gotten me into 'nough trouble-"

"Oh, come on, Vig! You look like you need some cheering up! And my momma always said a good meal could make any rainy day sunny right up."

With a wink, the young woman ladled a large helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate. And he didn't dare protest because his stomach was much too hollow at the moment for him to rightly ignore.

"Fine. But Ah'ma buy yuh a drink ta make up fer this."

"Such a threat! I'm so scared!"

They both laughed and the cowboy moved on to the meat section, leaving the woman to continue to tend to the rest of the people that walked up to her.

Extra helping of mashed potatoes with a wink… It had been a while since he'd been lucky enough to receive that.

The man serving up the steak was as kind with his serving as the woman. Even though Greg shook his head and tried to tell him that he _didn't_ want extra food, the younger male argued that he would need more than the usual amount because of the large serving of potatoes he'd received. If he didn't get the appropriate amount of meat, then the potatoes would be wasted.

These workers spoiled him.

He didn't even know their names.

The cowboy made his way towards a lonesome table over by the very back of the cafeteria, intent on eating alone.

It wasn't the right place to eat by his lonesome. He was aware of that. If he wanted zero companionship, he could easily make his way towards his sleeping quarters. No one would bother him there. But he didn't want to be _completely alone_. Even though he didn't want anyone bothering him, he didn't want to be faced with the complete silence of his room either.

Someone might come around and force him to allow them to sit with him. But the risk was worth taking if it meant keeping himself sane for a tiny bit longer.

His bones creaked uncomfortably as he began to eat his food. But it was an occupational hazard he had come to expect, albeit resent. He put up with it, tolerated the pain, even though he sure wished that he didn't have to. It was just a normal part of his job, though. A normal part of _all his jobs_. And he'd come to accept it.

Eating was a slow going process. But the food was warm and delicious, heating him up in a manner he had been longing to experience for quite some time.

It was Green Arrow to appear this time around.

The blonde archer liked him. They'd been friends for a few months now, it was a much shorter friendship than the one he had with Vixen, but the man already considered them to be close. He asked for advice in love all the time. And he'd even asked for help singing a tune to an annoyed Black Canary on quite a few occasions already.

Oliver Queen was a love struck fool that was much too slow to understand most of the subtle signs thrown his way by Dinah Lance. Luckily for him, Greg Saunders was around to help him decode the mysteries given to him by the woman.

When the archer sat down, he did so with a dramatic sigh. "Are you ready for Monitor Duty?"

Vigilante quirked an eyebrow as he slowly straightened up, lowering his fork back to the plate. He didn't really eat when people were around. At least, not when there were so many people he didn't trust. And even though he could eat with his bandanna without a hassle, he considered it rude to not look at someone as they spoke. So, for now, he'd have to give up on his food.

"When is someone ever ready fer that?"

An amused smile. Then a chuckle. Finally, Green Arrow shook his head, "Very true… So, Vixen told me about that case you're working on. Is that why you skipped out on that group that was sent to Wyoming?"

Greg knew about that team. And about why they were sent to Wyoming. Hell, he'd been one of the reasons why they'd found _nothing_ when they'd reached Siegel's operations. But he didn't want to think too much about his involvement in actions taken against the League itself.

"Yeah." He shrugged softly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bastard needs ta get caught an' law enforcement needs all the help it can get. Ah always love a good adventure in mah home state, but Ah made some good headway with the case. Ah think Ah'm close."

It was when Green Arrow was going to ask him about what he'd done that day, which was what always happened whenever they interacted- the archer always wanted to know about what happened in his friends lives, so he'd ask, and, once that was finished, he'd tell anyone that was willing to listen about his own adventures-, that the phone in his pocket began to vibrate.

Immediately, Vigilante's body stiffened.

"Sorry, Arrow. Ah've gotta go."

"What? Vig, come on! I just got here!"

The cowboy hastily stood up, right hand sliding into his pocket to pull out his most dreaded possession.

"Ah know. Ah'm sorry." He stood up as he excused himself, "It'll only be fer a bit, though. Ah'll be back 'fore we've got ta go fer Monitor Duty."

He rushed out of the cafeteria before Green Arrow had even properly formed a reply.

As fast as his bruised legs would carry him, the cowboy limped into his quarters. It was the only place within the Watchtower that was completely safe from prying eyes and ears. And Greg had made sure that the whole room was debugged, something the Bat had scolded him for, but the rest of the Founders had allowed to slide. So it was the only place he could go into to answer this phone call without worrying about his safety.

Once inside the safe space, he flipped the phone upon and pushed on the call button.

"Saunders 'ere."

_"You do understand you don't have to pick up the phone with that greeting every time, right, bro?"_

The voice that crackled through the phone's speaker was smooth and proud, unchanged by the sands of time.

He'd undoubtedly caught wind of everything Greg had done to keep him happy.

"Ah'm aware. Still, it's-"

_"Gregory, my boy, my dear boy, my beautiful baby brother, calm down. We're family. You don't have to be so formal with me. Now, onto the reason why I'm calling you."_

Hearing from this man was always a nerve wracking experience. He forced Greg to feel so many different emotions at the same time that the man always felt as if his heart would one day just give in from all of the stress. But, even with how loudly it was pounding within his chest, Greg was still alive. And he didn't feel as if he were about to die _tonight_. So he should be fine.

_"That information you gave me was correct. And that little plan of yours was perfect. Those Justice Buddies of yours found only an empty warehouse when they got into the Warehouse. So, once again, you've proved yourself to be much smarter than many take you to be. Not me, though. I know how intelligent my little cowboy is."_

Anger surged up into Greg's body. But he quickly stamped it down, more than aware that feeling such a thing would only harm him in the long run.

"That snitch; Ah-"

_"I know what you did, Gregory. Quite the signature you left on him. What did it mean?"_

Greg breathed in heavily, the memory of what he had done to the man with loose lips resurfacing.

"It's the Blarney Stone, Bugsy. That man had the gift o' gab; thought it'd keep him protected."

_"So you tattooed him before you cut off his tongue?"_

He winced.

Breathing became a difficult task.

Keeping his legs straight beneath him was even harder, so he leaned onto the blank wall to his left.

His quarters in the League were unimpressionable. The room was small and boring by itself. Its walls were the same gray that covered the whole Watchtower and the standard bed, kitchenette, and hole-in-the-wall bathroom sure weren't amazing. Unlike many of his fellow heroes, Greg had not tried to personalize it. If anything, the only personal thing he had within the room was his coffee maker and a serape he would sometimes wear on the colder nights.

It was such an unfeeling place for someone like _him_. There was a reason why he didn't invite anyone into his quarters.

"Yeah…."

He was lying. He wasn't sure why, though. All he knew was that he needed to fix that slip of the tongue.

_"Shit! You did that after you killed him? Man, Gregory, you sure didn't like Tony."_

Shakily, Greg forced oxygen into his lungs. It was a stunted process, but he was able to chase away the lightheadedness that had wanted to consume him. Then he explained, "It was a simultaneous job. Ah got Angel ta help me out. Didn't 'e tell yuh?"

There was a beat of silence.

It didn't really last long. But it stretched out enough to make Greg begin to wonder if he'd said the right thing.

Working with other trusted friends of his had never been a problem before… Had he done wrong by asking for some help with the snitch?

Then the man began to speak once again, _"No, he's got his daughter's ballet recital tonight. He's leaving anything related to business until tomorrow… Wait a minute, Greg, Angel ain't the kind to carve designs into anybody. He's the kind to cut tongues."_

Tears began to sting at his eyes. But he refused to allow his voice to shake.

"Ah wanted ta send a message. If it had been mah decision, Tony'd still be alive… He'd have a nasty cut in his chest, an' be terrified o' anythin' Irish fer the rest o' his life, but…"

_"Angel decided that he'd made enough mistakes and silenced him for good."_

A heavy sigh escaped him before he could stop it. "Yeah."

Both males were silent for a moment. The object in his hand, so small and light, felt as if he were holding a twenty ton stone.

Then the man on the other side of the call clicked his tongue loud enough to be heard through the phone. _"Well, Tony needed to be silenced. Either he lived and found himself hunted down by everyone he'd hurt, or he died. Angel's a good man with a wise head on his shoulders. If he thought it was best to get rid of him, then it was for the best."_

Greg couldn't really agree with the man's reasoning. But he wasn't able to explain his own thoughts. Nor did he try to. Hell, he couldn't make heads or tails of them himself.

_"Listen, Greg, I'm proud of you. I know you don't have head for the more violent side of the business, but you took on this job and handled it like a true man. Because of you, I've got one less thorn in my side. Dad would be proud of you."_

For most of his speech, Greg had been preparing himself to tell the other man that he really wasn't proud of what he'd done. He was supposed to be a hero. And even though he knew he was family, he couldn't really be called on for this side of the business. He'd gladly handle anything else. Just not the violent side.

But then he'd mentioned his father.

Not Greg's father. He hadn't seen that man for years now… a fact that haunted the man to this very day.

Instead, he was talking about Bugsy's father. Benjamin Sr.; the man that had taken him under his wing when Greg had found himself with nowhere to turn to all those years ago.

Dad would be proud.

That shut down any ideas of his to tell Bugsy he couldn't be called on for the more violent jobs.

_"You should come down and visit whenever you've got the chance. The Flamingo is booming, Virginia's catering business is soaring, and I still owe you that drink."_

"Ah, Bugsy, yuh know Ah ain't got the time."

_"Oh, I know you're now a big shot singer, Gregory, but you can't forget who it was that gave you the chance to make it to that audition. Make some time to visit us little folk, huh? It's been a while since we've been able to sit down and actually talk… I miss my little brother, you know."_

There it was.

The guilt.

Not the kind he was always haunted by. No, this was a special kind of guilt. This was the gut wrenching kind of guilt that only showed up whenever Bugsy called him his little brother.

He _wasn't_ the man's little brother. Just like he wasn't Benjamin Sr.'s second son. But they'd forced him into this role years ago. And there was no way for him to escape it now. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he'd _want_ to escape if he could.

"Ah, alright…" He murmured as he scratched at the back of his neck, "Ah'll see if Ah can get Monty ta give me some time off… The studio's got this ludicrous ideer ta make me sign fer a movie, but-"

_"Gregory Saunders, Country Singer and Box Office Actor? Get out of here! Seriously?"_

The small chuckle that escaped his lips did so without his permission.

It was enough to remind him how much he actually loved Bugsy, no matter what the man forced him to do.

"Uh, yeah… Bossman says Ah've got a good face an' demandin' presence- whatever that means… Thinks it'd be a good ideer ta start me off as a supportin' character, wet mah feet… But they want me as leadin' role by the end of next year."

He could hear the other man chuckling from the other side. And his heart swelled with pride.

_"My brother. The singer and actor… My God, Greg… I still remember when you were that little runaway runt from a nameless town… Now look at you. A big shot in Hollywood and a member of the Justice League. I'm not lying when I say Dad would've been proud, kiddo."_

Swallowing past the lump of mixed emotions, Greg smiled loosely. "Aw, shucks, Bugs… It ain't that big."

 _"It certainly is!"_ There was a bite to his words, annoyed with Greg's humility. That'd always been something he'd chastised him over. _"But I won't waste my breath explaining it now. I've got to go pay our old pals, Chris and Paul, a visit right now. I'll be waiting to see your name on the list for the Flamingo, though. And if I don't see it in the books by October eighth…"_

Greg couldn't help but smile sadly as the threat was allowed to hang.

"Ah know. See yuh later."

_"See you, baby bro."_

He allowed the silence to consume him… Allowed the _guilt_ to wash over him.

He was late for Monitor Duty.

..~..~..

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Remember to review and let me know what you thought!


	3. Chapter 3

_III_

Talk around town was that there were only two groups being suspected for the unexpected and incomprehensible murder of Carson Hayes; family man, dutiful worker, and overall upstanding member of the community. There was a split between the whole town as to who it had been. But, even with the split in opinions, there was one consensus: the true explanation could only be one.

Some liked to believe that there was no way that one of their own could have killed the family man. These people said that it must have been one of the bandits from the group they had known had been passing by their outskirts on the very days the man had died.

Unfortunately, if they were right, it meant that the Hayes family would never get any justice for the death that had torn them asunder. It would be impossible to catch up with that group of nomads. Even more so to figure out which one of them had pulled the trigger and sent the bullet into the man's head.

Others liked to believe that the murderer belonged to the large family that had always been despised. They found it easy to believe that a Savage could show off their colors and murder a family man in cold Savage family had always been forced to deal with hate and distrust from their fellow men. They were accustomed to having to deal with their fervent and scathing glares.

Well, most of them were accustomed to it.

"Ah just don't get it, Bonnie…" Ivy sniffled softly from behind her room's door, only to suddenly hiss in pain.

Raleigh didn't have to look into the girls' room to know what was going on. And his heart shattered.

No ten year old should ever cry for any reason that wasn't overwhelming happiness. Nor should they get hurt by other kids over _rumors_.

It didn't matter that the rumors were true. No one else knew about them being right. And Raleigh wished to keep it that way.

"How come kids are so mean?"

"Ah don't know, Ivy. Ah don't rightly know… But yuh do know that Rae's got nothin' ta do with this dirty business, yeah?"

He had been taking a box of tools over to Cash so she could finish up with a school project she had to hand in. He wasn't sure just what it was that she was doing, but he knew that she wanted to get a good grade on it and Lord help whoever stood in the way of Caley Savage finishing her homework.

This was her room… But she wasn't in here. Instead it was Bonnie with Ivy.

"A Course Ah know, Bonnibel!" Little Ivy sounded angered at having been questioned, but soon calmed down, "The boys may be stupid, but they ain't a bunch a' lowlives."

… If only she knew the truth…

Raleigh breathed out heavily as he continued to listen in on his sisters' conversation. He wanted to know why it was that Ivy had been crying. Hell, he wanted to know if there was someone he could blame for it so he could go out and-

Do what? Get revenge? _Make them pay?_

Violence never solved anything. All it was good for was getting people killed.

"There yuh are!"

The sudden shout had Raleigh jumping a mile high, so surprised that the box in his hands was sent sailing across the air.

Luckily, the quick witted girl that had scared him managed to nab the box before it could fall to the floor and spill out all of its contents.

"Geeze, Rae, somethin's got yuh more skittish 'an a acorn calf." The girl's long, black hair bounced from its place in her sloppily made ponytail, all the while an amused smile adorned her dry lips. Their mother had always insisted on all of them drinking lots of water. Cash never listened, though. Said she didn't like the taste of it. "Everythin' alright? Anyone yuh need me ta beat up?"

Cash wasn't the typical girl. Hell, none of his sisters were normal. Not by a mile. Their mother had made sure of that as they had grown, determined to raise them as strong women that would never need a man to survive.

Pa had backed Ma up on most of her ways when t came to raising the children. She came from a good family, he said. Even though he said their uncles on that side were _too nerdy_ for his tastes.

He didn't like them dealing with the less favorable jobs, though, like dealing with the man's work… But that sure didn't stop Cash from entering the garage whenever Ace was at work to watch and learn.

His younger sister might do this partly from curiosity, but it was mostly because their mother had whispered to her that she should learn how to fix up cars if she wanted to follow through with her dreams of travelling around the world. Their father had not been amused when he'd found out his wife had given this piece of advice that had gone directly against his wishes to raise his daughter. But he'd allowed it.

He'd even given Cash one of his rare smiles when she'd been able to fix Ace's motorcycle's engine when he'd been away on business in Cheyenne for a month.

"Ah'm fine, Cash." Raleigh raised his hand up to his chest to feel his speeding heart- it was as if it was about to escape from his chest at any second. "Yuh just scared me…"

Cash's green eyes were the darkest of the household. They were still green. But in the right lighting, they looked as if they were as dark as her hair. And right now they were trained on Raleigh with an amused glint that made him shake his head.

Sometimes he wished his sisters could be normal. He wished that they never talked back to a male and that they listened to him and the rest of the males of the household the first time they said something. But then he remembered how the boys at school had once tried to get Beulah to give Carson Hayes a hug, and he'd remember how grateful he should be for them being so different.

It had been a stupid little joke made by middle-schoolers. Beulah hadn't found it funny, though. Neither had Carson, he'd apologized to their daddy later on. But, in the spur of the moment, Carson had found himself on the receiving end of a mean left hook- one which had left the right side of his face black and blue for quite some time.

That had been back when Bonnie and Beulah had started the seventh grade. So quite a few years had already passed since the event. But none of the school kids dared forget how Beulah had laid out one of the school's star athletes.

In retrospect, maybe that event hadn't helped the town see the Savage family as any less dangerous. Because, if even their _girls_ could lay a man out, then they _must_ be the dangerous savages the town accused them of being.

After Raleigh had remembered one of the events that had marked both his sister's and Carson Haye's lives, the boy decided to just keep quiet. Instead of saying a single thing, he looked back into Ivy's room, eyes catching sight of the flowers that decorated the sturdy, wooden door.

Cash had always hated the damn things. But she always told Ivy she loved them.

"Everyone's bein' affected by this shit, yuh know."

Raleigh didn't have the strength to look at his sister. Not when he knew that, if he hadn't been such a damned fool, they never would have been stuck in this situation.

"Ivy's strong, though. She ain't got no one with 'er over at the elementary school, but next year she'll be in middle school… There, we'll be able ta keep an eye on 'er."

"But that's too far away."

"Well, that's all Ah can tell yuh, Rae. 'Til next year, she's on the other side o' town."

Cash opened the box that she had caught while in the air. She took a peek inside; made sure that she had all the tools she would need for her project, and stood on the tips of her toes to ruffle Raleigh's hair.

"Yuh should get this mane cut. Or at least start washin' it more often."

Softly, the boy slapped his sister's hand away. Then he shooed her off, a small smile playing on his scarred lips as he watched her bounce away.

The smile disappeared quickly enough, though.

"This'll all blow over when the Sheriff finally gets his head outta his ass." He heard Bonnie whisper.

The teen breathed in to try and calm his racing heart.

"'Til then, though, yuh've gotta be strong, Ivana. Can yuh do that fer me?"

His heart shattered further.

" I… I think so…"

He didn't think his heart could take much more of this.

He breathed out.

* * *

 

VIII

When he'd first called to make reservations at the Flamingo Hotel, he'd been told that it was fully booked. But once he'd told them his name, Gregory Saunders, an empty room had mysteriously popped up.

Clearly, Bugsy had left a good word for him with his employees.

Monty had not been too thrilled with giving him a few days of vacation. But Greg had earned his days of freedom through always being respectful and punctual. And the fact that the director and casting director for the new movie they wanted him to try out for were staying in the Flamingo at the same time he planned on staying in sure didn't hurt in convincing the surly agent.

Monty wasn't a big fan of taking days off. But he would make the great sacrifice of heading towards sunny Las Vegas with Greg Saunders to make sure that his star in the making didn't do anything too stupid while in Sin City.

Greg found it ridiculous that he needed to have a companion with him as he visited Bugsy's hotel. But he understood that when it came to Tinsel Town, he did everything asked of him and didn't question anything. He wasn't a big enough name just yet to grow a brain of his own. Or, at least, that's what Monty's friend, an intelligent woman that worked with extremely big names in the musical industry, had told him.

"So, why now?"

Monty was an average man that had not stood out to Greg at all when they had first met. He was short, barely reached the height of 5'3, and didn't really have many distinguishing features. His body wasn't muscular, but he wasn't fat. The suits he wore were straight, so they made him look skinnier than he was. But there wasn't much to admire in that aspect. And his face was round and unassuming. His eyes were a dark brown, somewhat squinted- they give him a perpetual indecisive look-, and framed by thick eyebrows.

The only thing that one could say was a tiny bit outstanding about him was his hair, seeing how it was extremely well kept. It was thick, black, and obviously cared for with dozens of products, seeing how it stood up and puffed out in a manner that just didn't happen naturally. And Greg knew that the man went into a salon once every month to keep any sign of gray hairs hidden, along with cutting all out of control tips.

At one time, Greg had heard the man's friend, Stacy, joking about how the only thing that could make him even _more_ unassuming would be if he wore glasses.

Monty had not been amused with that observation.

They had been walking from the airport where they'd landed when Monty had spoken up. Their destination at the moment was the car that had been sent their way by the Agency. Even though Greg, for the life of him, couldn't remember what car it was supposed to be.

"Now what?" He questioned as he turned to look down at his agent.

Whenever he looked at Montgomery Black, Greg couldn't help but feel somewhat grateful for having hit his growth spurt. Sure, it had been late. But at least he now stood at a solid six feet tall, and that was quite the asset to have in the entertainment business.

It was a bittersweet feeling, remembering his tiny stature as a kid. It was never easy to think of the past he had left behind.

"Why are you taking on a vacation now? It's not Christmas, nor is it Summer. It's not during any of the regular vacation seasons." The shorter man explained himself, "And you're not the kind to ask for time off. I mean, yeah, you've got days where you disappear. But you never risk your career to disappear, so I don't pry."

Keeping his hero work from interfering with his actual work was a difficult feat. There were times when the Justice League needed him that Monty needed him as well. But those were few and far between, which meant that he was usually able to keep his pristine attendance record intact. The only real problem was Monitor Duty, but the big men in power usually understood of the needs of his job, so they helped him by keeping his shifts from interfering with it.

Thinking about his work in the League made him remember the last conversation he had taken part in before he had been given permission by the Founders to take some time off:

Greg smirked softly at his friend because, even though he said he didn't pry, this man was the nosiest of the mice he knew.

Mice in his life weren't usually received as kindly as Monty was. Usually, the term 'mouse' applied to quiet people that didn't know how to stand up for themselves. But Monty, even though he looked like one of these mice and acted like one when he didn't know a person, was nothing like those mice he knew well enough. Monty was a good mouse to have around.

"Ah'm feelin' stressed. Bugsy somehow- an' how 'e did it is well beyond me- somehow managed ta find out 'bout this stress and insisted on havin' me take on some restin' time." Greg shrugged softly, grip on his suitcase tighter than it really should have been.

He'd tried to loosen it. He'd really tried. But he was much too nervous to meet up with Bugsy and those nerves had to come up in some manner. At least he didn't look like a bumbling idiot in front of all the people around him.

Monty's eyes squeezed and his lips pursed, clearly shocked by something he had heard. Greg wasn't sure just what was surprising, but he didn't care to inquire. Especially because before Monty could ask whatever it was that was biting at him, one of the cars parked by the curb of the airport's street honked, taking up his attention.

"That's for us!" He remarked in excitement, then did a little jump-step dance where both feet left the ground, floated up in the air for little to no time, and then shuffled off- all in quick succession. "Come on, Saunders! The quicker we get there, the quicker we get to rest!"

Greg smiled softly as he shook his head, the scar that crossed over the left side of his lips pulling slightly in a manner he had grown accustomed to after years of housing it.

They entered the small yet luxurious car, a black Honda Accord that couldn't have been out for more than five years from the sheer cleanliness and modern look of it. Monty slid into the passenger seat without any hesitation, always eager to take control of all situations even when it wasn't needed of him. And Greg entered the back with much less enthusiasm, although still pleased with the happenings of his life.

Pleased with _most_ of the happenings in his life.

"Flamingo Hotel, Monty?"

Greg's green eyes widened slightly when the dark haired beauty known simply to him as Stacy turned to face Monty. He could only see the right side of her face, but there was no doubt that the woman behind the driver's seat was Monty's greatest friend. Her smoky, lengthy eyes were unmistakable, even in a sea of fellow Asian Americans. There was just something about those dark eyes that _screamed_ Stacy, always letting Greg know who it was that he was talking to.

"Sure is, Stace! Are you going to be staying there as well?"

"Luckily for you two last minute planners, I've been here the whole week. Roxy Modern has been cutting a deal with some big Las Vegas executives and she wanted me to be around to watch over her and all decisions made." The woman explained as she began to drive away from the airport, all the while Monty threw his luggage onto the unoccupied seats to Greg's left. "I've been at the Flamingo since yesterday, though. It's a pretty pricey place and Roxy's people refused to spring for the room until they were certain that the deal would go through and everyone would get paid for this trip."

Greg shifted slightly as he grabbed Monty's carelessly thrown luggage and straightened it up beside him, then placed his own on the floor of the car. Once he'd finished up with keeping the luggage much safer than Monty, he pulled on his seatbelt.

All around him, Las Vegas roared by. The night was dark, but it was hard to believe that it _was_ night. Everything was lit up, all the buildings, all the light posts, all the billboards… Hell, Greg swore even the _pavement_ had lights shining within!

He wasn't much of a talker when the conversation wasn't with him. Always, even as a young buck that looked more like an underfed acorn calf than an actually healthy animal, he'd been deemed a quiet sort by those around him. And, in his own view, he really was. He thought more often than he acted, enjoying thoughtful logic rather than impassioned risks.

He'd gone through with decisions born from impulsivity enough times to know that they were the worst kind of decisions to follow.

"Hey! It isn't my fault Greg decided to pull the rug out from under me at the drop of a hat!" Monty hissed as he crossed his arms over his chest, then smiled and uncrossed them to put on his seatbelt. "Anyway, aren't you excited to visit the Las Vegas strip with your old friend Monty? Wasn't this something you always wanted to do with someone you loved?"

"Someone I love? Yes. Romantic partner? That's what I thought. And you, Monty, aren't even a romantic _interest_."

"Yeowch, woman! Retract those claws, please. You might poke an eye out with them."

Greg was amused by the clear show of friendship between both. But he soon allowed his mind to drift away from reality and into the mindfulness spectrum, allowing his thoughts and worries to wash over him and take over his mind.

This would be the first time in a year that he would look Bugsy in the eyes.

Greg wasn't sure if he should feel happy that he'd be seeing the man again… or if he should be worried about seeing the dangerous man. But the nerves bubbling up in his stomach were steering him to think that, just maybe, he shouldn't be too elated to see him again.

Bugsy… Did he even allow anyone to call him that anymore? Greg knew that he allowed _him_ to do it. But Greg was considered as a brother at this point, someone that could get away with the embarrassing nickname. Hell, he'd been considered a brother by the man by the end of the week when they'd met.

There'd been a reason why he'd avoided seeing him for a year, though.

Would it really be a good idea to meet with him again? Especially with the jobs that the man still enjoyed assigning him to complete?

Greg breathed in. His heart began to speed up. He breathed out as slowly as he could. His heart didn't slow down.

There was no avoiding Bugsy when he wanted to see someone.

By the time they reached the Flamingo Hotel- which didn't even take a half hour, so Bugsy certainly hadn't been lying when he'd said that he'd found prime location-, Greg's fingers were digging into the palm of his hands.

The Flamingo was much less obvious than Greg had expected it to be. With a name like that, he'd imagined a building with countless floors, flamboyant pink walls, and a large, neon Flamingo framing the side, **THE SENSATIONAL FLAMINGO HOTEL** shining brightly from within the very belly of the animal.

What he found, though, was so subtle that he was confused for a few moments when Stacy drove into the large plot of land that belonged to a huge, white building. To either side of the road they were taking, luscious, unbelievably _real_ green grass framed the sides. The road was long, black, and stretched much farther than Greg had ever expected. They drove for more than five minutes, passed by some five small buildings he guessed were where either the staff lived or some kind of equipment was kept, a golf course, two different pools, and three different parking lots. And when they reached the large, main building and stopped inside the roundabout that was customary in hotels of such grandeur, Greg couldn't keep his eyes from widening.

The hotel he found before him was slick, modern, and very much like the hotels he'd only seen in movies that dealt with the very top of the upper crust. Personally, he'd never been in a hotel of this monetary caliber.

Momentarily, he felt his wallet ache. But that momentary pain was dashed when one of the employees, a Hispanic looking young woman with a bright smile and vibrant blue eyes, opened the door for him.

"Welcome to the Flamingo Hotel, Mr. Saunders." She spoke smoothly, although with a bit of energy that spoke of being excited for more than just earning her paycheck. "Mr. Siegel's been waiting for you. I'll call him down now."

For a second, the man found himself frozen. But he quickly let out, "No need. Uh… Just… Send 'im ta my room?" It came out stunted and felt off even for him, but at least the woman understood him.

From the front seat, he heard Monty snickering, followed by a whispered, "So he isn't _completely_ smooth with women," From Stacy.

He chose to ignore both reactions.

"Well, Mr. Siegel wanted to meet you down here…" The woman murmured to herself, clearly torn between following her first orders and the ones given to her by Greg.

Clearing his throat, Greg offered a small smile as he regained composure over his mouth. He wasn't some dolt that couldn't speak to pretty women, which was most probably what Stacy and Monty now thought. But he'd been caught off guard by the suddenness of what might have been meeting Bugsy, so he'd looked like a right fool.

Looking like a fool because of his brother; yet again. It was something that happened often.

"Mr. Siegel's a busy man, ain't he? He most probably ain't down here already 'cause of some last minute meetin', right?" He waited for the woman to nod, which she predictably did, then continued, "Then yuh don't gotta inconvenience him none. Ah'll head on quickly ta my room an' yuh can tell 'im Ah'll be there all night. That way he don't get interrupted none."

The woman's bright eyes clouded up for a moment. But then she nodded and her bright red lips formed a tentative smile. "Alright. I guess that should work too."

They both smiled a tense yet hopeful kind of smile that was only ever shared by worried strangers forced to speak to each other.

Greg stepped out of Stacy's car, pulled out both his and Monty's luggage, and kept his things with him. Monty quickly handed his luggage to the woman, never wary of handing off manual labor to someone else, and Stacy stepped out of her car to allow the valet to park it for her.

"If you would, please follow me to the front desk." The woman asked all three of them, "To the front desk."

So they all followed.

..~..~..

Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! Please remember to review and tell me what y'all think!


	4. Chapter 4

_IV_

On Raleigh's eighth birthday, before Ivy had even been able to speak, he'd accompanied Ace, Boone, Cass, Jeb, and Carson Hayes to the top of the highest hill in Morrigan. Bonnie and Beulah had wanted to tag along, just like Cash and her friend Minnie, but the boys had managed to convince them that it wasn't safe enough for them to come around.

Boone had heard whispers around the town of a witch living at the top of the hill, inside of a shack that couldn't be seen from Morrigan. Supposedly, if someone was able to catch her off guard and steal her magical broom, she would grant them three wishes for the stick's safe return. So, being the daring children that they were, his brothers had decided that they would get those wishes.

Raleigh had wanted Cash to come with them. He didn't really care if either of the twins came around. But Cash was a good sister and defended him whenever Ace and Cass decided that he needed to be reminded of his short stature.

Runt of the litter was a term the boy had heard many times before to describe him. Even compared to Cash, who was two years younger than him, he didn't look too big. Hell, it even looked as if she would be taller than him in just a month or two if she continued eating her vegetables.

Cash had fought tooth and nail to go. But eventually Jeb had managed to convince her to stay behind and protect Minnie, Bonnie and Beu. Because if they reached the witch and their information was wrong, it was very likely the witch would seek revenge on the Savage family for having gone out to bother her.

The girl had not seemed too pleased with her job. But she'd stayed behind, much to Raleigh's disappointment.

As the youngest of the group, he'd found himself subjected to a great deal of heckling from most in the group. Jeb had been the only one to try and keep the others from going too far in their jokes. Carson had just kept quiet most of the time.

By the time they'd reached the top of the hill, which had dead grass all around it and was difficult to climb because of the unstable terrain, it was to find that there was no shack to be found.

The older boys had immediately begun to argue with one another.

Ace said it was all Boone's fault for getting the information wrong. Cass said it was all Ace's fault for having Boone as a friend. And Boone just jabbered and hissed, saying that it must be someone else's fault because his information was _never_ wrong.

Raleigh had been panting like a heat licked dog on death's door step as they'd fought.

He wasn't sure how they'd come to the conclusion that all that had gone wrong was somehow hiss fault. But, one second he'd been staring at a patch of dead grass that had sand surrounding it, and in the sand he could see holes of what he guessed might have been rats, and the next Boone had his hands on him.

"Yuh did this! Stupid Savage! Ah told y'all we shouldn't've brought the runt with us!"

Boone was a big kid. He was meatier than his brothers, but shorter. And his hair was a mop of unkempt brown hair that spilled over his eyes, which meant looking at him properly was a chore.

"Hey now! Let go o'im!"

"Or what, Jebediah? Yuh gone scalp me like them injuns you come from?"

Jeb was a big ten year old. He was tall, reached their grandfather just a bit higher than the waist, and he wasn't made of only bones. He had muscle packed on him already, just like Cass and Ace. Raleigh was the only one of the boys that was skinny enough to be mistaken for a walking skeleton.

Jeb wasn't usually a mean spirited person. He was calm and kind. Sometimes, Raleigh heard Pa whispering to Sir about how Jeb was just _too kind_. But whenever someone insulted the Savage name, it seemed as if a devil entered his soul.

This was one case in which the devil went too far.

"Take that back! My family ain't related to no injuns! We're Irish an' proud!"

The wind began to pick up at that moment, but none of the angered boys around Raleigh seemed to notice. Sand twisted up into the air because of how harshly Jeb walked towards Boone, reminding Raleigh a bit of the storms they would sometimes have to hide from.

"Injuns! Y'all are just a bunch o' red skins!"

Raleigh could see Ace and Cass squaring up from behind Jeb. Carson, with his blonde hair stuck to his face because of the sweat, just stared with wide blue eyes.

Now that he thought about it, this would be the first time Carson would see any of the Savage boys getting heated.

Jeb wasn't thinking straight. He never did when the devil entered him. So he shoved Boone as harshly as he could, putting enough force into it to send the older boy sprawling back.

Raleigh was forced to go along with him.

The problem with Boone having held onto him wasn't that Raleigh wound up on the floor beside him, with his ass covered in sand and dirt. No, the problem was that Boone had, in his confusion, shoved Raleigh even further back.

Straight towards the edge of the hill.

"Raleigh!"

"Shit!"

"Pa's gonna kill us!"

"Grab 'im!"

Carson had been the only one to try and reach him. But it had been too late. Raleigh had toppled over the edge of the cliff before the blonde had gotten anywhere close.

The thing with the highest hill in Morrigan was that, while one side was climbable, albeit difficult, the other was dangerous, filled with all kinds of unsavory surprises, and descended into a shallow plain that had supposedly been used by Indians in the years long past to bury the innocent settlers they had butchered to try and reclaim their lands.

Raleigh wasn't sure what had happened during the trip down to the plain below. He just remembered the pain of rolling and getting his whole body smacked around by rocks and harsh terrain. And his screams. He'd screamed the whole damn way down. But he couldn't remember how the trip had been. Just that he would remember the sickness and nausea of the ceaseless tumbling for the rest of his life.

When he reached the bottom, the boy allowed his body to just collapse. He lay sprawled out on the floor for what felt like an eternity, wounded and bleeding.

He could hear screams. But they were extremely far away and echoed and buzzed within his ears, uncomfortable and painful. Everything was blurry, hollowed, and gray scaled.

Was the ground supposed to be black? Was that something that had happened after hundreds of innocents had been buried here after violent deaths? Or was he just imagining things up?

Oxygen was hard to come by. His chest was stunted and refused to function properly, lifting and falling in a manner that was so quick it made the young boy think about the dog he had seen die before his eyes after madness had consumed its soul.

Would he start foaming at the mouth too?

For what felt like an eternity, the young boy lay on the ground, wondering about his impending doom with a resigned indifference he would grow to be terrified of in later times.

Luckily, though, right when he was beginning to think that he should probably start repeating his prayers to whichever Saint out there was willing to listen, he heard what reminded him of rocks sliding down.

One of said rocks hit him right across the lip, busting it open. But he was so out of it that he didn't notice the pain.

"Shit! Found 'im, boys!"

The shout was clear, but that was only because Raleigh heard it right beside him.

Slowly, he opened the eyes he hadn't noticed he'd closed. And when they finally decided to focus on the person that had come down to save him, it was to find the worried baby blues that had been the last thing he had seen before he'd fallen off the edge.

"C-Carson?"

Chapped lips broke into a broad smile as two heavy hands snaked their way beneath his body, then lifted him up into the air.

"Sure is, Rae. Had us all there worried for a spell. But you're fine, y'hear?"

"Really?"

He _hadn't_ felt fine at all. His whole body had been uncomfortably numb, except for a few parts that had pain sprout through them at being jolted by Carson. But the older boy had smiled at him so nicely and said such comforting things that Raleigh had decided to just believe his words.

When he had been taken to the hospital by the boys around him, Raleigh found out that he had not been, in fact, _fine_. He'd broken his right arm upon impacting against the ground when he'd finally reached the bottom of the hill, and both of his ankles had been twisted because of the speed and rolling. A rock had sliced straight through his lips, leaving a wound that would become a scar that would haunt him for the rest of his days. And a couple of ribs had been broken, the rest had bruised.

Carson Hayes had been the one to get him because he was the only one of the group that had previous experience in search and rescue missions, seeing how he had accompanied his father on a couple of expeditions before. Jeb, Cass, and Ace had all been left behind with Boone to pace like terrified chickens, clucking and whining as they hoped for the best but expected the worst.

Raleigh couldn't really say he remembered much from the fall. Or from the rescue. Or even from his first day in the hospital.

It had all been a rush, as cliché as it sounded.

The _one thing_ he did remember clearly, though, was his father's frown as he'd walked into the room that had held him and his brothers and their friends.

Boone, Ace, Cass, and Jeb had all been given _months_ of punishment for having endangered the young boy's life. _And_ to learn to respect the elements, seeing how they had all left to climb a hill without any supplies or even water canteens.

Carson Hayes, though, had been gifted one of the warmest smiles Raleigh had ever witnessed in his life.

"Thank yuh. Savin' my idiot boys wasn't necessary… But- you're a good kid, Hayes. In case your daddy hasn't said it, Ah'm proud of yuh."

Carson's own smile had been large and bright, making Raleigh feel as if he had been able to light up the whole room by his lonesome.

Atticus Lugh Savage had given his youngest son's savior that one warm smile he only ever gave his kids when he was well and truly proud of them. But when he turned to said youngest son, the smile was already gone.

On that day, Raleigh had been jealous of Carson for having received the one smile he'd never been able to earn. But, as the years had passed, that jealousy had given way to respect and admiration. Because if it hadn't been for that brave boy, he would have undoubtedly died at the bottom of the highest hill in Morrigan, left for dead after his brothers had been idiots.

Said respect and admiration had not made his greatest mistake feel any less horrendous. They had just made him feel like the despicable person he truly was, helped his already large amount of guilt grow into an unbelievable and endless well of pain.

If only he'd managed to keep a hold of that jealousy, maybe that guilt would have been less. Maybe he would have been able to turn it into that resigned indifference he had felt as an eight year old boy in a hopeless situation.

That bullet was never supposed to have met with Carson Hayes' head.

* * *

IX

It wasn't all that interesting, in Greg's eyes. The Flamingo Hotel was clearly the best money could offer, but… Well, it just felt like _too much._

The furniture in the room, the decorations, the _walls_ … It was all so poufy, froufrou, and over the top. It was sleek and modern, to keep in touch with the atmosphere of the rest of the hotel. One of the paintings was even one of those hokey, single colored canvasses that would only sell in this time period because it was considered 'deep, inspirational, and _inspired_ '.

But Greg was a simple man. He didn't need voice controlled televisions or toilets, nor did he need showers that could shoot out seven different streams. All he needed was a TV set that showed Westerns, a running toilet, and a shower that helped him get clean.

His room was a single bed one with large windows that led towards a spacious balcony. The room overlooked the largest pool in the hotel, one that was only seen from inside the large place, and was supposedly one of the biggest quarters a guest could have.

It was the Virginia Shepherd Room. A name that he found somewhat funny, seeing how Benjamin Sr. had always warned his son off of giving anything important his dame's name.

He'd entered with his luggage, led in by the very woman that had opened up his door. She'd tried to grab it off of him, but he'd managed to convince her that it was alright for him to carry them and that, no, it wasn't a thing of a man's pride; he just felt more at ease if he carried his own things.

For a few seconds after the woman had turned on the lights, Greg had thought himself to have become legally blind. But then his eyes had adjusted to the overly bright lights in the room and he'd entered to drop his stuff off on top of the large bed in the very middle of the room.

As soon as the woman had left, he had begun to mess with the lights to see if he could lower them some without shrouding himself in darkness. Luckily enough, he'd been successful and now found himself in a pleasant, unobtrusive glow of light.

After he'd finished messing with the lights, the cowboy had moved towards the other side of the room. So he found himself facing the balcony, in front of the large windows, contemplating if he should have a smoke.

Laws nowadays said that there shouldn't be any smoking inside of enclosed spaces such as these… But a smoke sounded like a mighty fine idea at the moment.

He wasn't a smoker. Both Siegel's _were._ But he wasn't. At least, in all honesty, he was not a _regular_ smoker. He only lit a cigarette up when he felt extremely stressed and his hands refused to cooperate kindly with him.

His clothes had been tucked into the dresser/TV holder combo, while his shoes had found a new, much more comfortable, home within the walk-in closet. There were even hangers for him to put his clothes up, but Greg felt much too tired to deal with the tediousness of clothes at the moment.

Most probably, tomorrow, when he was forced onto the strip with Monty and Stacy, he'd regret having to wear wrinkled up clothes. But for now, he was just happy that he could finally think in peace without having to worry about unneeded questions from prying minds.

Even though his damned hands refused to remain still…

Low, in the background, the melodic _Benny Guitar_ played. Letty Pace's sultry voice hummed a heartbroken tune that always managed to soothe even the loudest of Greg's thoughts. He had it on repeat and had lost count of how many times he'd listened to it at this point.

The name of the titular man the song spoke of was one Greg knew well. It was one that he knew _much_ too well.

_'… There was never a man… Like my Beenyyy… Like the one they call Benny Guitaaarr…'_

Right through the guitar solo, Greg heard a knock on the door to his room.

Shave and a Haircut. Bugsy's favorite tune to knock to.

"Come in."

He hadn't even finished calling out when the door opened.

"Greggy boy! How's my favorite brother?"

Bugsy entered swiftly and loudly, as much the controlled storm as he'd been when Greg had last seen him.

The years had been kind to Bugsy. Even though he was already pushing forty, he didn't look a day older than thirty. His brown hair was as full as it had been last time they had met, slicked back with a conservative amount of gel that didn't make it seem greasy. His tanned skin still had little to no blemishes on it except for the mole that rested below the left side of his bottom lip and a couple of freckles that were hidden by the tan. And his blue eyes were bright, doing a bad job of hiding the man's excitement over seeing his brother once more.

The song began to play once again.

"Howdy, Bugsy? How's it goin'?"

_'Play the guitar. Play it like my heart… My Benny.'_

"Good. Great. Fantastic, actually!" Bugsy's long legs allowed him to stride over to the opposite side of the room in less than five seconds. And, once he was within arm's reach, he grabbed Greg and wrapped him up in a bone crushing hug. "I can't believe I haven't seen you since your birthday!"

Bugsy's natural warmth had always been a confusing thing. On one hand, it had always managed to give Greg comfort. Even on the worst of his youthful days, when he wanted to give in and confess his sins to whatever policeman was nearby, it had always managed to make him feel as if he were safe. This warmth was the kind he'd once felt, many years ago, before he'd decided to be an idiot and thrown his whole life away.

At the same time, though, this warmth was too much. If Greg allowed the man to hug him for too long, he would get burned. He would suffocate in the warmth; suffocate in the man's pride.

"Almost a year now…" Greg murmured softly as he patted Bugsy's back, only to find himself pulled back abruptly by him.

"Exactly! In exactly four days, October twelfth, you will be thirty five years old. Almost twenty years of knowing each other! And Greg, my boy, I'll make sure you have the best birthday in the world."

Bugsy's pearly white smile was perfectly straight, just like the rest of his whole being. All of Bugsy was straight. His teeth, his nose, even his _clothes_ were straight lace… but certainly not his _ways_. Those were wicked and crooked. But he kept everyone thinking his ways were just as straight as his looks.

"Yuh don't-" Greg tried to say as he shuffled softly on his feet, only to get interrupted.

"Of course I have to!" Now the man wrapped his arm around Greg, pulling him in close once again.

_'Please stay near; don't stray far… I love yoouu… Who cares if you're cruel? I know your truth… Loving Benny...'_

Briefly, Greg wondered if the man even cared about wrinkling his pristine three piece suit. But then he remembered how Bugsy must have been the owner to more than a dozen of those suits and could easily buy a new one without any kind of difficulty.

"You're family. Thirty five is a big year. And _this_ is going to be a big year. You've got that new movie business going around, along with the release of your second album… Greg, there is _all_ the reason for me to celebrate you."

By the end of his speech, Bugsy's voice had lost some of its ecstatic energy and sobered up. Then his blue eyes turned to Greg's green own, and the man couldn't deny how serious he looked. _How genuine_.

"Besides," Now his voice dropped and his head moved closer to Greg's.

The younger male moved his own head closer, a movement born of instinct and repetition.

"You did a great job handling that rat. You deserve something for having gone the extra mile… Angel told me that you wanted me to be proud?"

That had been Angel's take on the situation. That's all it had been. Greg hadn't wanted to make Bugsy _proud_. He'd just wanted the man happy, to keep him from getting angry with him.

But if he wanted to believe Greg wanted to make him proud… Well, Greg wasn't about to stop him.

"Because you did. You _have_ made me proud, little brother." Bugsy smiled as he walked away from Greg and sat down on the large and plush bed at the center of the room, hands going to either of his sides to hold him up. "Pops was always worried about you, seeing how you didn't come from our blood… But I tell you, Greg, you're the best investment I've ever made in my life."

Bugsy finished talking by the time the guitar solo started up once more on the song, then _'There was never a man like my Benny… Like the one they call Benny Guitaarr…"_

Both men allowed the song to finish in silence. Neither said anything. They just looked at each other.

Greg wanted to understand just why it was that Bugsy was being so kind to him. He wanted to understand just why he'd _always_ been so kind to him. Bugsy was never kind to anybody but _family_. Yet, when they'd met each other for the first time all those years ago, he'd been kind. He'd been so nice back then… Why was he always so nice?

He was sure that Bugsy was just waiting for an answer. Patiently the man sat, eyes wide and eager for an answer.

The song started up once again.

Greg decided that he would just do as he was told… The same as he'd done for his whole life now…

How much would it hurt to just continue doing what he had always done?

"Where'd yuh wanna take me?"

Bugsy's smile was akin to that of a kid had that just opened his only gift of Christmas to find out it was that one toy he'd been asking to get for over a year.

"My best restaurant, a steakhouse in your honor." The older man stood up with a speed Greg sure didn't expect, and then walked towards him to wrap his arm around Greg's shoulders. "The Cowboy Casanova may sound like a strip joint, but it's actually the eatery that cemented the Flamingo's place in Las Vegas history."

Greg couldn't help the small smile that came to him upon hearing the name.

"Cowboy Casanova? Is that what yuh see me as?"

"Not at all, Greggs." Bugsy ruffled his hair and patted him on the chest before separating, "But that's the character you put on for the paparazzi vultures. So I thought it'd be a good idea to give your successful career a little homage here."

Bugsy had always been an eccentric, interesting person. His brain wasn't like others. It'd always been _unique._

Sometimes, Greg wondered if Bugsy didn't have such a one-of-a-kind brain, would he have ever decided to help him out as he had all those years ago. He sometimes found himself asking a blank and silent room that couldn't say a single thing if Bugsy had been just a tiny bit different, if he would have ever gotten as far as he was now. Most of his ponderings of the past ended up in the same place, though: Prison. So he tried his best to not ponder.

"Now get washed up. We're going to celebrate your arrival at the Flamingo tonight. And on Thursday, you'll eat the best damn steak on this side of the country."

Greg couldn't really tell Bugsy that he didn't want to celebrate his birthday with him. Nor could he tell the man most of the things that were eating away at his heart.

So he just smiled softly and nodded, "Sure thing, pardner."

_'I was always a damned fool for my Benny… The one they call Benny Guitaarr… Play it again, Benny Guitaarr… Play my heart..."_

..~..~..

I would like to make a quick mention that all of the songs used in this story are mostly original. Some are inspired by different songs and have been adjusted by myself to create something different. And no names used in the story are actual people- other than Benny Seigel, but he's an actual character in the DC Universe.

Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! Please remember to review and tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

_V_

He had decided that enough was enough. His house had been vandalized. His sisters had been terrorized. His brothers had been forced to fend off several attempts to brutalize them. And even his grandfather had been forced to deal with a drunkard that had gotten too handsy when he'd gone out for a drink.

Raleigh Savage had decided that he'd put up with enough shit to last him a life time; that his family had put up with _too much shit_. He couldn't allow them to live through this any longer.

By the time his family figured out the top bunk in the boys room was completely empty, and that all of the essentials for surviving out in the wilderness had been taken from their shed, all along with Ace's prized motorbike, Raleigh was too far for them to ever have found him.

One month before his birthday, Raleigh had decided to leave his family behind for good.

It was the coward's way out. He was aware of it. But he couldn't bring himself to tell his family the truth. It was easier to run away; never have to look at their faces turn into ones of disappointment and rage after they'd heard the truth; than to tell them that everything he was blamed for, every rumor the town had ever said about him and his family… That every single bit of hate directed towards them was completely justified.

Roaring down the lonesome freeway, wind whipping at his face at such a high temperature it felt as if it were _slicing_ him, Raleigh couldn't help but despise himself.

He'd lived a good life. His family, albeit much too big and overly demanding, was great. They all loved one another. And they all looked out for each other, no matter what.

But he'd thrown it all away. Just to be like his big brother.

That night, Raleigh didn't sleep. He didn't sleep the following day either. The need to get as far away as possible from the Savage Family, the little town he'd called his home ever since he had been born, and the location of his biggest mistake was much more important than getting any sleep.

He'd gotten to Cheyenne in only two days. Normally, the drive from his little hometown to the capital took much longer. Normally he had seven other teenagers driving his parents insane as they drove, one grouchy grandfather that refused to amuse any of his grandkids, and two strict parents that didn't allow much horsing around.

The silence that surrounded him as he parked the old yet well taken care of Harley was as deafening as the gunshot.

Money wasn't something he actually had access too. The thought of stealing from his family had struck him on more than one occasion. As he'd planned, Raleigh had considered taking money from Sir's stash, more than aware that the old man had quite the collection of valuable trinkets that he would sell whenever he deemed profitable. And he was also aware of his sisters' stash of money, stowed away for a rainy day and accumulated over years of birthday and Christmas gifts.

He may have been a coward. But when faced with Ivy's piggybank-which was stuffed full of money-, he'd found out he wasn't despicable enough to steal from his family.

He'd gotten lucky. Someone up above must have wanted him to actually do _something_ with his life. Because, on the very first day of being within the large city, Raleigh found himself in the good graces of someone with more than enough money to save his sorry ass from dying from hunger.

Benjamin Siegel was a no good gangster that enjoyed keeping control of all of his subordinates. He was a violent sonnuvabitch that would kill anyone he deemed unworthy of being in the same room as him. And he was such a coward that he was the kind to raise his hand to shoot a gun, but not to save his fellow man.

Benny Siegel- also known as Benjamin Siegel Jr. - had money, though. He had money, quite the educated background, and an odd mind. Somehow, he had found something interesting within Raleigh as he'd watched him struggled with his bike from the window of his father's diner. So he'd gone to him and struck up a conversation.

That conversation had become a dinner invitation. And that invitation had then led to an offer for Raleigh to earn his pay by working for the Siegel's.

Because of one male, a teenager only a couple of years older than him, Raleigh found himself working for and living with one of the most dangerous people he had ever come to know in his life.

"You know that's a pretty dumb name, right?" Benny smirked like a cat that had gotten a hold of a canary as Raleigh wiped down one of the many tables within the diner he now worked.

Benjamin Sr. had quite the lucrative chain of businesses. Some were completely legal. Most were illegal. But the teenager had learned that, if he wanted to stay in the Siegel family's good graces, he needed to keep quiet about anything that wouldn't make them seem like the good people they wanted to be known as.

"Pardon?" He stopped in his work to glance up at the older teen, only to find him smirking down at him.

"You ran away from home, didn't you? So why don't you start calling yourself by a cool name? A _real_ name?"

"What's wrong with mah na-"

Benny rolled his eyes and immediately interrupted. "Jurisdictional lines can be crossed when it comes to a minor. How do you think it would look if someone with your exact description and name was known to be working at the Siegel Diner? That rust bucket home of yours isn't too far from Cheyenne, you know."

"Ah'm aw-"

"Good. So you understand the need to change your name. Raleigh's aren't too common, see. And Savages are much less found. So, if you want to keep your sorry ass from being hauled back to Shitsville, you're gonna have to take on a new name."

Raleigh had not liked hearing his home being called such names. But before he could tell his unwillingly acquired friend that he needed to show some respect, the man that had taken him under his wing decided to enter the dinner.

Immediately, Raleigh went towards the man and took his coat. He hung it up on the rack by the doorway, picked up a menu, and led him towards a booth in the back of the diner before he'd even said a word.

Benjamin Siegel wasn't a man that usually showed emotions. He was much like Atticus Lugh in that respect. But he smiled at Raleigh once the menu was in his hands. And Raleigh was left dumb struck.

"I knew you were a good kid."

The mixture of pride and disgust that rose up within Raleigh's gut was uncomfortable. _Unforgettable_. But it was warm. And it had been a while since he'd felt that warmth. So he'd rejoiced in it.

He'd gone through the motions in work that day. Everything he'd needed to do, he'd done quickly and efficiently. And by the time they had to close, Benny clapped him on the shoulder as they walked towards his car.

"We lost my younger brother a couple of years ago to some Italians… I think Dad sees a bit of him in you."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm." Benny opened the door to his side of the car after he'd said this, a thoughtful look on his face. "Hell, maybe that might be it…"

Raleigh stared at him with confusion. He tugged on the door to see if it would open, only to find it locked. "What might be what?"

"Your new name." Benny smiled, unlocked the car, and slid inside.

Raleigh found himself fumbling like an idiot for a few seconds.

"Gregory. Dad's always loved that name. Says it gives strength. So it's like tradition in the family to name kids like that."

Raleigh didn't enter the car, "Yuh wanna replace your dead brother with me?"

"Not at all." Benny waved him off and motioned for him to enter the car. "Just the Greg bit. You don't have to be Siegel. You can have any other last name you want. But you need a new identity."

Later on, Raleigh would find the reason as to why Bugsy (the nickname had been created by him as a sort of revenge against the older male always insulting his name and hometown) had been so insistent on having him change his name. Hidden inside of Bugsy's favorite gun rack, jammed between his Smith and Wesson and the Winchester 30-30 he favored for the easier hits, the country boy had found an old paper, browned with age, and he'd pulled it out curiously.

Bugsy had taken over the family business at that point, Benjamin Sr. had recently retired to allow his sons to take over, and he had been sent to fetch the Winchester. They had needed to make some Italians understand the meaning of _loyalty_ , but Bugsy had needed to deal with a dame that had come running in, crying and screaming about him having stood her up. So he'd sent the younger male to grab it.

**RALEIGH LIAM SAVAGE**

**Disappeared on the night of September 12, 1982. He was last seen in the Savage family home. He partook in the family dinner, then retired to bed. He has not been since. It is believed he ran away.**

Beneath this, there had been a description of the clothes he had last been seen wearing. And above all of it, there was a picture of him: His mother's favorite photo of him, the one from that year's school picture day.

It would take years for him to find this, though.

And it wasn't as if anything actually changed after he found it. He'd already been with the family for going on five years and they'd paid for everything he'd ever needed, even all the repairs on his trusty bike. What could he have done? What could he have said?

_"Why didn't you tell me y'all were hidin' me from my own papers? Why did y'all force a name on me?"_

No. That wouldn't have been right. Not after everything the Siegel's had ever done for him.

Twenty one years old, freshly admitted into college, and eager to please the family that had saved him, he'd just jammed the paper back where he'd found it, grabbed the gun, and locked the rack back up. He'd never told Bugsy he'd found it. And, even though he was sure that Bugsy knew that _he knew_ , the man didn't say anything himself.

A few days after the then called Benny had given him the idea of changing his name, Raleigh found himself signing papers with a mean looking man in a shady looking apartment. Both Benny Siegel's had been with him, Sr. had paid for the papers while Jr. had given him the assurance he'd needed to actually go through with the changes to his identity.

Saunders had come to him from his favorite singer. Roy Saunders wasn't a household name, but he'd been loved in the Savage Household. His music could always have been heard playing at some point in the house and it had always been warm and soothing to listen to.

Even though he would have to give up his name, Raleigh refused to give up the memory of his family.

On December 12th of 1982, Raleigh Liam Savage ceased to exist. The name was never used again; it quietly faded into the record books of law enforcement in Wyoming. Raleigh Liam Savage was never heard from again and his family never received a true answer as to what happened to the youngest of their boys.

On December 12th of 1982, life was breathed into Gregory Saunders. Born on the same day as Raleigh Savage, Greg had lived a quiet life in the care of his mother, Claire Saunders, in a little shack on the outskirts of Wyoming until she had died from cancer. Claire had been Benjamin Siegel's cousin, twice removed, on his mother's side. And upon hearing about the sixteen year old that would fall into the government's twisted claws if no family stepped up, the man had fetched the teenager and taken the parentless boy under his wing.

From that day on, Greg Saunders found himself under the thumb of the Siegel family. Never to escape it, never to revolt against it.

* * *

X

His birthday… Today was his birthday…

Greg had never been a big fan of his birthday. It had only ever brought bad things to his life, bad experiences.

When he'd turned eight, he'd gotten the scar that crossed over the left side of his lip.

When he'd turned seventeen, he'd been beaten to a bloody pulp by the Siegel family so he'd learned to keep control of his temper and his mouth.

When he'd turned twenty one, he'd been forced to go through with the second kill of his life.

And when he turned thirty five, he found the world he'd carefully constructed around him- even through the pain and agony he'd encountered while doing so- come crashing down.

"Ah'm only human, Batman."

Silence.

His pounding heartbeat, deafening to even his ears.

The squeak of a boot trying to find traction. He wasn't sure who it belonged to. It might have been his boot flailing in his blood. But it could have been any of the Leaguer's own.

And, finally, "He's your brother."

Greg had hoped this day would never come. He'd hoped that nobody would ever find out about his family, the ties he had to one of the biggest crime families Las Vegas had ever seen. He'd hoped that he'd be able to keep his family life a complete secret from everyone around him.

Maybe, deep inside, he had always known that he would be found out. Maybe he had subconsciously been aware that all secrets and lies would eventually come to light.

Even if he had thought this subconsciously, his conscious mind wasn't prepared to deal with the repercussions.

"Your _brother_?" Green Arrow was surprised and he didn't try to cover that up as he spoke. "What the… Vig, _Greg_ … How can _Benny Siegel_ be your brother? There's no way!"

Bugsy was currently licking the wounds that he'd been gifted while trying to fight off the Emerald Archer.

Greg was trying to keep himself from bleeding out because of the stray bullets that had embedded themselves into his side and leg.

Bugsy should really have been more careful when contracting those body guards of his.

"Saunders, there is no excuse for your actions." Batman hissed above him, looming over him like the shadow of his past crimes.

There was no one around except for the members of the Justice League and the two brothers.

Before the heroes had decided to crash the party, the dimly lit restaurant had been packed. The owner of the Flamingo Hotel and his most important guest had sat at the most luxurious box available, deep in the back of the steakhouse. They'd eaten quite the wonderful meal as well, and had been prepared to eat some of Virginia's desserts.

Bugsy had been busy gushing over his dame's wonderful chocolate cake when they had heard the first gun shot.

It had all been a rush after that.

Greg had stood up and rushed to his brother, intent on keeping him as safe as he could.

The lights had been cut, the screams of the civilians had been deafening, and the hits they had both taken had been painful.

But once Vixen, Green Arrow, and Batman had all finished up with Bugsy's men and Greg found himself on the floor, wounded by one of the men- maybe two or three of them even- that had been shooting blindly, everything had calmed down.

They were still within the cozy boxed in booth. But there was nothing comfortable about it anymore. It felt more like a coffin now, so small and tense.

"Yuh think Ah don't know that?" The cowboy chuckled humorlessly, head shaking softly as he tried to stave off the lightheadedness that wanted to wash over him. "Listen, Ah ain't no saint. Ah know that… But Ah just tried ta keep my life from flyin' off the rails…"

"Rawhide… This can't be right." Vixen's brown eyes were wide and filled with confusion and betrayal.

Greg _hated_ having to look at her. His heart broke piece by piece the more he looked into those tear filled orbs. But he forced himself to keep her gaze. Because he _had_ to look at her. This was what was right.

It was about time he did the right thing.

"It's right." He murmured, "Benjamin Siegel Jr.'s mah brother… Benjamin Siegel Sr. adopted me years ago."

Bugsy groaned from his corner. Greg turned to look at him, only to find his bright blue eyes wide and filled with fear.

"Greg? What the hell? Keep quiet!"

"Why?" The younger hissed, "What'll Ah get from keepin' quiet again? Bugsy, Ah ain't no good! It was 'bout to come out 'ventually!"

"My guys can keep you out of jail if you just keep your mouth shut!"

Regretfully, Greg shook his head.

"Ever since Ah was sixteen, Ah've been keepin' mah mouth shut… Ah've been runnin' fer almost twenty years from mah greatest mistake… Bugsy, this ain't no way fer a man ta live."

Bugsy's eyes narrowed for a moment. But then he closed them and breathed out, "You have too big a heart, you stupid fool."

This caused the cowboy's scarred lips to curl up at the corners. But his little smile didn't last for long, interrupted by a pained hiss as he jostled his bleeding wounds.

"I don't really care about whatever might be happening right now. You're bleeding out and I refuse to let you die."

Green Arrow was rushing towards him before Greg could really make heads or tails out of the situation.

His body moved of its own accord.

One of Bugsy's men's guns had been laying on the floor to his left. So his left hand- seeing how his right was currently plastered to his torso to keep his blood from gushing out like a damned fountain- picked the gun up, cocked the barrel, and aimed it right at the blonde's head.

The archer's movements immediately ceased.

"Ah ain't no hero, Ollie. An' it's 'bout time Ah pay fer my crimes."

"By dying?" Vixen gasped; although she remained standing beside the big bad Bat. "How the hell is that any kind of penitence?"

Greg shrugged softly at this.

"Quite frankly, it's 'bout time Ah head on ta kingdom come…"

There was only one thing Greg could think to do. So he began to sing.

_"Early one mornin', with some time ta kill; I picked up Jeb's rifle, ta practice mah skill… Ah saw a lone rider ridin' his way… Ah set my sights on 'im, ta practice mah aim…'_

He was interrupted by a round of coughing that racked his whole body.

He kept his gun on the heroes, though.

Batman's face was unreadable; always stony and emotionless. But Greg believed that he could see the faintest glimmer of desperation around him, surrounding his whole body. He wasn't sure if the man had ever seen one of his fellow heroes in such a situation… But the Bat could handle anything thrown his way.

Vixen, though, looked like she was about to bolt. If it was at him to stop him or away from him, Greg wasn't sure. But she looked like a deer caught in headlights and her body was coiled like a spring ready to fly.

And, finally, Green Arrow looked defeated. _Absolutely heartbroken_. He'd always been a bleedin' heart… The most emotionally open of the people Greg knew…

For the first time in his life, Greg didn't feel the least bit guilty over hurting those around him.

_"The trigger went off 'fore it could stop, the bullet flew… That's all Ah knew…"_

He'd written this song to try and admit to his guilt in some manner that wouldn't get him jailed. It had been an instant hit and had sky rocketed his career into the stratosphere.

Every time he performed it, he could feel bile rising up in his throat and tears stinging at his eyes.

None of this happened this time around, though. Instead, he sang smoothly, cleanly… His voice was rough and coarse, but that was to be expected from the bullets currently housed within him.

In his opinion, he'd never performed the song this well before.

_"The horse kept running… the rider was dead… Ah ran away… Ah ran away…."_

He drifted off at the last line, heavy eyes falling shut before he could try and keep them open.

Faintly, far away and echoing, he heard, "Wasn't that his first single?"

He could see Carson Hayes' last moments.

The blonde had been riding into town; he'd been coming back from some business he'd attended to in the next county.

Raleigh had wanted to be just like Jebediah. The third of the Savage boys was the best shot in all of Morrigan, quick and efficient in all shooting he took part in.

Carson had been galloping with complete ease. The smile on his face was pleased, most probably because he'd managed to finish up with whatever business he had gone to fix up. Raleigh knew this because the scope on his brother's gun had been outright powerful.

When Greg next opened his eyes, it was to find Carson Hayes' smiling face completely intact, as if no bullet had ever destroyed it. He sat on top of his finest horse, a fine mustang he'd tamed all by hisself, and he looked every bit as young and radiant as he had before Raleigh had taken his life.

Greg couldn't help himself.

"C-Carson?"

A small smile brightened the older male's whole face, "Sure is, Rae. Had us all worried for a spell, there. But you're fine, y'hear?"

Now he offered his hand to Greg, calloused and rough.

"Really?"

"Rightly so, Savage. Now, why don't yuh take mah hand?" His left hand kept a tight grip on the reigns of his dark horse as the beast nickered. "They've done quite a number on yuh… But you'll be fine."

It was his turn to ride off into the sunset.

..~..~..

And this is the end! Final chapter of the story. Hope you all enjoyed this! Please remember to review and tell me what you thought of this ride!


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